Across the Ocean Blue
by IntrepidLlama
Summary: Previously "Anything But Ordinary" Not in my wildest dreams or most horrifying nightmares could I have imagined the journey that awaited me when I first boarded the grand ship Titanic. **On Hiatus!**
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the movie that this fanfiction was written for, nor do I own any of the characters recognizable from it (however Aoife, Niamh, Saorise, Margaret and Fiona are mine), and I mean absolutley no offense to any of the actual crew and/or passengers of the Titanic.

**Summary:** Not in my wildest dreams or most horrifying nightmares could I have imagined the journey that awaited me when I first boarded the grand ship Titanic. In a matter of days my whole world was turned inside out and on its ear, never to be the same again. Never before had I felt so many emotions in such a short period of time; fear, sorrow and despair, and yet comradery, friendship, and even love. So quickly this new life was given to me, and just as quickly it was taken away.

**Author's Note:** Special thanks to ShadowsLight91 and Saphiranna for their excellent beta-reading skills.

**Pronounciation Guide:** Aoife is pronounced "Ee-fa", Niamh is "Nee-v" and Saoirse is "Seer-sha".

Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated. .

_**April 5**__**th**__**, 1912 – 6:40am**_

I stood on that chilly mornin' in South Hampton outside the White Star Line shipyard... well, illegally_ inside _it if I can be honest, leanin' against the cold brick wall of one of the tall buildings scattered across the long stretch of land. 'Illegally' is a harsh word, really; 'unwantedly' perhaps would be a better way of wordin' it. I saw no problem with my being there; I wasn't hurtin' anyone nor was I there to make mischief. But that mornin' when I'd risen to hear my Aunt Margaret talking about how the grand ship Titanic had made berth during the night, there was no way I was goin' to miss seein' it.

As I looked up at it that mornin', there was no doubt in my mind that it was as superb as the papers said it was; the largest ship ever built, the ship that couldn't be sunk. Famous before it had even made its maiden voyage across the sea. And it was right there before my very eyes.

The girls back home would never believe me when I told them of its grandeur, even after just seein' it from so far away. The way its black and red smoke stacks raised into the air, almost regally… a stark contrast to the pinkish colour of the early mornin' sky. If my eyes weren't deceivin' me, it almost shimmered as the first rays of light played upon its white rails, the sun reflectin' beautifully off the portholes.

Listen to me! Goin' on about it as if it were some man I was fawnin' over. It was just a hunk of metal after all...

Ah, who am I kiddin'? It was so much more than that. I had seen ships in my time, even been passenger on one large one once, one which took me from Ireland and my family and brought me here to my godforsaken home, if it could be called that, in England. But the Titanic... she was a sight to behold. And to think, in just five days she would be steamin' across the ocean; her lucky passengers hangin' off those white railings, hootin' and hollerin' as they bid their homes and families goodbye for the promisin' shores of America.

A cold breeze which swept down the alley behind me quickly called me back to reality as I observed the people already hard at work in the shipyard. Those dressed in White Star Line uniforms were sprintin' here and there far up on the decks, touchin' up the paint on the railings or cleanin' the portholes in preparation for the big voyage. There were men dressed in workin' clothes loadin' crate upon crate into the hatches of the hull – that bit down there was the hull, wasn't it? I didn't have a clue one way or another about the anatomy of the ship, except that the top half was meant to stay above water and the bottom half below it.

I wrapped my old, ragged shawl tighter around my shoulders as the breeze started to pick up, catchin' stray curls out of my braid and whippin' them into my face. A smile crept to my lips as I wondered to myself what it might be like to go walkin' up those metal walkways and step into that beautiful vessel. I wondered what it would be like to stroll around the decks, to see the coast fadin' fast behind me as Titanic sped me towards America and my family that had migrated there years ago.

I shook my head, and my inner voice almost mockingly reminded me, _'Yer never gonna get on a ship like that, silly girl. Yer auntie, aye, and yer cousin too, but not you. You'll be stuck at home, playin' Cinderella with the other housemaids... Oh Christ!'_

I slapped my forehead and looked down at the empty wicker basket at my feet. I hadn't left the house that mornin' to gape and awe at the Titanic... I'd been given my chores for the day, and one of them was to stop by the market to pick up fresh vegetables for my Auntie's dinner that night. God forbid she step out into the market to do her own biddin'...

It was futile for me to wonder why she didn't; such an ornery old woman she was, she simply couldn't be bothered. Ah, the life of the society types!

I bent to pick up the basket and gave Titanic one last, longin' look. Perhaps someday _I'd_ be the one boardin' a ship like that, and ole' Auntie Marge would be the one wishin' and hopin' for a way out of _her_ life.

'_What cardinal sin does that fall under?' _I wondered to myself as I hurried away. _'Wrath or envy?'_

I finally stumbled into my Aunt's painstakingly over-decorated foyer about two hours later, my arms overflowin' with five dresses I'd picked up from the tailor's and a basket filled to the cusp with all manner of vegetables.

"Niamh! Niamh? Saoirse? Anyone?" I called, lookin' around for someone to help me as I used my hip to close the front door behind me.

"Why aren't you coming in the back way?"

I looked up to the top of the staircase to see my cousin Fiona come saunterin' down slowly, apparently none too concerned about my unsteady state.

"Could... Could ye give me a hand there, Fiona?" I asked, still tryin' to hold the heavy basket and the dresses steady. She passed right in front of me on her way to the sittin' room, lookin' offended that I'd even dared to ask.

"Of course not," she scowled. "What do I look like to you, Aoife? A maid?"

She raised a defiant eyebrow at me and before I had the chance to respond –or make it to a clear surface to set the parcels down on, for that matter– the woven basket slipped from my grasp and fell, landin' with a thud on the cherry wood panelin' and sendin' its contents rollin' in all directions across the floor.

"Now you've done it," she scoffed, and walked into the parlour as if nothing had happened. I watched her go, disbelievin'.

"Don't look so surprised," Saoirse said as she rushed in from the dinin' room, immediately crouchin' down to help me clean up the mess I'd made. "You actually thought she'd lend a hand?"

I shook my head down at the brown-haired girl kneeling before me as she picked up a dilapidated cucumber. "Why should she? It's not like it's _her _food that's rollin' around on the floor or anythin'." I gave her a wink before I went to set my Aunt's dresses in her bedchamber. When I returned, Niamh, the other housemaid was helpin' Saoirse pick up the last of the vegetables.

"To rinse them or not to rinse them, that is the question." She wriggled her eyebrows at me as she inspected a dented tomato.

I laughed at her usage of one of Mr. Shakespeare's quotes and shook my head. We could be workin' on our feet from dusk till dawn and she'd still manage to find the energy in the evening to curl up with one of his books or plays.

As the three of us headed back towards the kitchen, Saoirse cradlin' the basket of slightly bruised vegetables in her arms, she remarked, "It's not as if we don't keep that floor clean enough to eat off of in the first place."

I nodded my agreement, and grabbed my apron off the back of the kitchen door as we entered.

"Where were ya, Evie?" Niamh questioned me as she propped herself up against the wooden counter. "You've been gone an awful long time."

I shrugged my shoulders as I tied the white strings of the apron behind my back. "Ah, I was detained."

Saoirse snorted from her place at the counter, unloadin' the basket, and Niamh raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What'd you do?!"

I chuckled in response. "Not that kind of detained; distracted, I mean."

"Well say what ya mean, Evie girl. I was picturin' you bein' held in Scotland Yard." Saoirse kept a completely serious face as she said this, but Niamh and I laughed heartily.

I moved to help her start preparin' some of those veggies, but she shook her head at me. "I almost forgot to tell you, Evie, your Aunt wanted to see you in the tea room as soon as you got in."

I grimaced. Nothing good ever came from one of my Auntie's talks.

"It seemed pretty urgent," added Niamh with a quick nod.

With a deep breath, I turned on my heels and headed back out the kitchen door and towards the tea room, mutterin' under my breath for the girls to wish me luck. The last time Aunt Margaret wanted to talk to me, I got a stern tongue lashin' for havin' run off with the son of one of her society friends during a dinner party.

Now before ye get yer mind in the gutter; we didn't do nothin' but talk, but Aunt Marge would hear nothin' of it.

I gently pushed open the door to the tea room at the back of the house, the end that let in the most sun through its large, pristine windows. There she sat in all her glory, wearin' an almost embarrassingly ornate rose-coloured gown, sittin' perched delicately on one of the arm chairs in the corner. I straightened my posture and slowly entered the immaculately decorated room.

I halted just before I reached her and waited for my presence to be acknowledged. I awaited being rebuked for my tardiness or assigned to some menial task for the day. As if I didn't have enough to do, with the laundry list of things she'd instructed me to complete before sundown!

But as I stood there, I noticed that her eyes weren't focused on me. They were starin' out into space, looking at nothin' in particular really, just gazin' at a spot on the floor. I cleared my throat, hopin' to catch her attention. Still, nothin'. I leant forward, notin' the rise and fall of her chest – "Just to be sure", I told myself – and looked at her leathery face. She still didn't acknowledge me.

"Aunt?" I asked finally, takin' another step forward. With that she finally snapped out of her reverie, and turned her face to me, her expression of tranquility fading away to annoyance.

"Are you just getting in?"

_Bloody hell!_ I thought. _She tricked me! To think, I was worried about the ole' bat!_

I cocked an eyebrow at her, and nodded my head. "Yes, I had a hard time locatin' some of the vegetables you requested for your soup at the market..."

She waved a frail-lookin' hand at me, lookin' disinterested. "Sit down, I need to speak with you."

When I hesitated, she repeated herself.

"Sit down, child."

I complied and took a seat across from her on a stuffy chair, straightenin' my apron on my lap.

When Aunt Margaret opened her mouth, I expected her to get right to the point, but instead I heard, "I thought I told you to throw that ratty thing out!"

I looked down and saw what she was pointin' a bony finger at: my shawl, hangin' loosely now from my elbows. I looked up at her and replied, "It was my mother's, Auntie. You know that. I'll not be gettin' rid of it, thanks."

She muttered somethin' about 'obstinance' under her breath and shifted in her seat. She never was too fond of anything of my mother's, not her shawls nor her children. The two women were so different; my Ma was a kind woman, short in stature but hearty with warm brown eyes and an encouragin' smile. Auntie Margaret however was tall and gangly, what was considered fashionable by all means, with skin so pale she could have been mistaken for a ghost in broad daylight.

Aunt Margaret's thin hand reached up to trace the outline of the ungodly large gem which hung around her neck, as she began to speak. "You know already that your cousin Fiona and I will be traveling to America on the 10th..."

"On Titanic's maiden voyage, of course." I couldn't stop myself from grinnin' as I said it; the vision of the great ocean liner materialized in my mind at the mention of it.

Aunt Margaret didn't look too pleased about having been interrupted but continued on nonetheless. "Niamh will be making the journey with us. Fiona practically insisted upon it; she claims no one can tie a corset quite like Niamh..."

A smile pricked the edges of my lips up. Niamh did have a flare for makin' sure the well-to-do women 'round that house had a hard time breathin' in them corsets. She'd always say that it was her way of evenin' out the universe. But, as happy as I was for Niamh about her gettin' to go to America with my Auntie and my cousin, even if it was just as a maid, I couldn't help but wonder why not me? I had family there, after all...

"... And you have family there, after all."

I couldn't quite decipher whether I had heard my thoughts or my Auntie's voice, they were both sayin' the same thing at the same time. I snapped to attention and asked her to repeat that last bit.

Aunt Margaret was again annoyed at my lack of attention but repeated herself anyway. "What I was saying was that I had planned on Saoirse joining us also, but I thought that perhaps you would be a better choice. You work faster, are less outspoken, and... well, your mother did run off with your brothers there when she dumped you off here with me. This would be a time for you to... reunite with them."

I was completely taken by surprise by my aunt's words, so much that I barely heard the words "dumped you off here with me" and concentrated more on the fact that I was bein' given a chance to go to America!

Aunt Margaret blinked at me and averted her eyes. "Aoife, close your mouth. You look like a trout."

I shook myself out of my stupor and asked, "You... You really mean it? You want to take me to America?"

"Wanting has nothing to do with it. I told you, you're a fast worker, and I can't have anyone dillydallying about. Fiona and I will be in the company of some of the richest, most powerful people in the world, and we must be looking our best at all times. You will cater to our needs, should you choose to accompany us. And, well... I thought that perhaps you might... er... enjoy it." She forced the word 'enjoy' out as if it were poison, but quickly added, "If you don't want to go, fine."

"No no no no no!" I felt as if I were about to burst. "It's not that at all, Auntie! I... I've always wanted to go. I just... don't understand why you're offerin' this to me now…"

With a heavy sigh, she looked at me again, stickin' her nose in the air as she said, "If you would stop being an interruptive nuisance for one single moment, honestly, I could tell you! You are expected to work the same as you are here, to assure that myself and Fiona are properly attended to at all times. There is also a condition which must be adhered to if you are to join us..."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. O'course there was a condition. There was always somethin' with that woman, I'm tellin' ya.

"You will not address me in public as 'Aunt Margaret'. I am to be called Mrs. Addisson in the presence of... well, anyone while aboard that ship. You will also at least pretend to be a proper young woman on our voyage. You will speak, dress, and act like a woman accustomed to serving others."

"Am I not?"

"If I were your employer and not your aunt, I would have released you years ago due to that attitude, Aoife O'Malley. Understood? And it's that attitude that is not to rear its ugly head while we are on the Titanic. Is that clear?"

A small smile crept to my face, but I did my best to hide it. "Yes ma'am."

"Also, I will address you as 'Evie', not Aoife while in public."

I furrowed my brows at her last statement. "Why?"

Aunt Margaret shifted her eyes, and said in a tone of voice that left no room for further discussion, "Because I said so. Now," she continued on, her voice airy and conversational, "if you choose to make the return journey after we've docked in America, that is entirely up to you. If so, yet another ticket will be provided for you..."

My mouth again fell agape, and my brows shot upward. Not come back?! She was givin' me the option of not comin' back? She was basically taking me to America, granted I had to be a good little maidservant on the passage there, but she wasn't insistin' that I return with her?!

It wasn't like I hadn't earned it in my thirteen years of livin' with Aunt Marge and Fiona, while workin' to earn my keep. I had, ten times over! But the more I processed the thought, the more it seemed that there was somethin' terribly amiss with this situation. Aunt Marge, though not all together as bad as I sometimes made her out to be – she had taken me in after all – was not a charitable woman, nor was she someone who would do somethin' kind without the prospect of somethin' in return. Take my goin' to live with her, for example. She wouldn't've done it had I not been an extra pair of hands to help out 'round her house.

I asked her, "Is there somethin' wrong, Auntie?"

"Why do you ask?" She looked uncharacteristically skittish at my question.

"Well..." I thought over my wording carefully. "Not that I don't believe you want a maid... eh... _someone_ to help keep you all fancy lookin' while yer with yer mates," I shied away from the word 'maid'; I didn't have the strength to get into the 'You're not my maid, simply my... helper!' debate with her again. "But... is there somethin' else you need to tell me, about why you want me to accompany you?"

Her eyes looked about ready to pop out of her skull as she exclaimed suddenly, "I attempt to do something kind for you, and you regard me with suspicion?!"

I leant back in my seat, my eyes widenin' at her outburst and said, "No, no, Auntie, I didn't mean that; I just..."

"Have I not done enough for you? Taking you in, putting food in your mouth, putting clothes on your back?"

I arched an eyebrow but decided not to push my luck. "No, Auntie, I'm grateful..."

"Well it isn't as if you try to act like it. Now please... escort yourself out."

"Aunt Margaret..."

"Now!"

I hesitated but stood up. I watched her sit, stone-faced, as I exited the room and closed the door softly behind me. There was definitely somethin' askew with the way she was actin'; there were too many little pieces of the puzzle that weren't fittin'. Why she couldn't have called me by my given name like she always had before? Not once had she ever called me Evie. Or why had she nearly burst when I expressed some doubt about her motives?

I shook my head as I started walkin' back towards the kitchen. I began to shake off Aunt Margaret's odd behavior and let the thought of my impendin' journey wash over my. Somehow, I wasn't able to concentrate on the gnawin' feelin' of suspicion that had risen in my stomach. I was goin' to _America_ on the _Titanic_, and I was goin' to see my family once I got there to boot! A grin spread over my face as I went to find Niamh and Saoirse to tell them the news.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Later that night...**_

As I climbed the stairs to my attic room that night, I still had the remains of a smile playin' across my face. I hadn't been able to wipe it off all day. I had long since chalked my Aunt Margaret's behavior up to her finally growin' a heart, and the more suspicious aspects of her speech that afternoon had faded from my mind. I was fully ready to embark on the journey of a lifetime!

When I had told the other girls earlier that day, they had been ecstatic.

"We're going? On Titanic? Really?!" Niamh had squealed and began leapin' up and down.

Saoirse laughed and looked at me with wonder in her eyes. "You're going to see your mum. How long has it been, now? You've been here longer than I have..."

"Thirteen years," I answered her. "Thirteen years livin' with my Aunt while my ma and brothers worked in America. Somehow, they never managed to get up the money for another fare for me to come an' join them... I was six when I came here and couldn't work, least not in a factory or somethin' to earn me a wage, so I reckon they decided that there was really no point in bringin' me… I'd only have been a burden."

My slightly sullen tone had caused Niamh's smile to slowly fade, but I shook my head at her. "Don't even think on it, lass. What matters now is that we're goin' to America!"

"On the grandest ship in the world." Saoirse winked, and Niamh engulfed me in a hug.

Now, as I climbed the creaky old stairs and pushed open the door to my little room, I could still see the look on Saoirse's face. She'd looked happy for us, yes, but there was somethin' else in her eyes.

I felt more guilty than I had all day, knowin' that I was goin' instead of her, and knowin' that she knew it too. She was my closest mate, along with Niamh, and they were all that had gotten me through the hard times. A strange sense of sadness swept over me as I put on my nightclothes in the dark. Was I actually feeling sorry about leavin'? Or just sorry that I was leavin' my friends behind? Niamh, after all, would be returnin' with my Aunt back to England. I'd have to bid her goodbye, as well.

I laid down on my bed and pulled the heavy quilt up over my body. After turnin' on the oil lamp on my bedside table, I reached for the top book in a stack of them which laid next to the lamp: Snow White. At nineteen, I was a bit old for faerie stories, but just as Shakespeare captivated Niamh's mind, old faerie stories of mystical lands and magical happenings captivated mine.

I fell asleep that night whilst readin'. "You, my queen, are fair; it is true. But the young queen is a thousand times fairer than you..."

"Evie... Evie! Wake up... Evie..."

"Wha!" I sat bolt upright in my bed, sendin' the book that had fallen onto my chest flyin' towards my feet. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness; the lamp had long since gone out. To my surprise, when I was able to see, I saw Niamh sitting on the edge of my bed, her blonde hair falling down her shoulders in loose curls, clutching her robe tight against her.

"Sorry, Evie..." She apologized, lookin' at me with wide eyes. "I didn't mean to scare ya..."

"Is the house on fire 'er somethin'?" I asked, reachin' down to collect me book and set it lightly in its rightful place at me bedside table.

"No, no, nothing like that. I jus' wanted to talk, is all."

"Oh," I sighed, rubbin' the sleep out of my eyes. I glanced around the room and saw no trace of light comin' from the round window facing east, indicatin' that dawn had not yet broken.

"It's still night, Evie," Niamh assured me. "I just wanted to talk to you about the crossing to America..."

When she hesitated, I urged her to go on. She seemed ashamed, or afraid of continuin' with her thoughts.

"Go on, Niamh. Are ye nervous or somethin'?"

"Hardly," she chuckled, avertin' her eyes from me. "I... I just... wanted to tell ya somethin', since I'm goin', n' so're you..."

"Well, go on then. Tell me somethin'."

She took a deep breath, and then looked at me with those two big blue eyes again, before whisperin', "I... Well, see, I was thinkin'..."

"Fer Christ's sake, Niamh," I said, rubbin' my eyes. "Tell me already, lass. It's the middle o' the night..."

She finally blurted. "I don't expect I'll be comin' back."

In my hazy, tired frame of mind, it took a moment for those words to reach my brain. I screwed up my face, and asked, "What're you on about?"

"I mean not to return to South Hampton, Evie. Not to England at all."

We sat in silence as the weight of her words settled in.

"Yer plannin' to stay in America?"

"That's what I said." She nodded surely, but her eyes told me otherwise. She was lookin' for somethin' from me. Approval.

I blinked, and looked down at the quilt on my bed. _So this is the reason she was so happy today. She's not comin' back to work fer Aunt Margaret_.

"D'ya think it's a good idea, Evie?" she asked me, breakin' the silence that had befallen us.

"Well," I began to say, choosing my words carefully. "I reckon so... How much have ye thought this over, really? It's not gonna be easy, startin' over in a new place. From the letters my Ma's sent me over the years, it's bloody hard, Niamh."

"But she's stayed there. There must be a reason..."

"There was nothin' to go back to, dear." I gently reminded her. "After my Da died, Ma and us kids, we were left with nothin'. That's when my brother Desmond got up the idea of goin' to America, the Land of Opportunity he called it."

"It is. It will be..."

I bit my lip, and slowly shook my head. "They never sent for me. There has to be a reason. Ma said once in her letters that 'There's no luck fer the O'Malley's, not here in America nor in Ireland.' Money was scarce..."

I looked up to see Niamh lookin' terribly defeated. Frownin', I patted her hand gently.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm just tellin' ya so ye can make a good decision, that's all." I looked down and thought hard for a moment. "Niamh, I say if ye believe you can make it on yer own, ye should do it. It ain't gonna be easy, but... yer not an O'Malley. Maybe you'll have better luck."

"Luck o' the Irish, eah?" she gave me a small, unsure smile.

I grinned back at her. "That's the spirit!"

Her smile grew, and she nodded empathetically. "We will... Ye think I can do it, Evie?"

I took a deep breath, before noddin'. "Yes, mate. I think ye can. They say anything's possible in America, after all."

"In the land of opportunity," she reminded me with a smile.

"Aye. Think 'a that! The two of us, startin' over anew in America of all places. It'll be grand, it really will."

She quickly leant over and hugged me; I never knew a person could smile so wide. "I'm glad ya think that, Evie girl, I really am. I know I can learn to stand on my own two feet, and be free from being someone's servant, someone's housemaid. Oh, I'm so excited!"

"Well doesn't that just beat all!" I laughed, huggin' her back tightly before we broke apart. She stood, the grin still spread across her face, and headed for the door.

She stopped with her hand on the knob and looked back at me. "Think of it, Evie. In just a few days, we'll be free as birds."

I grinned and nodded at her, and watched as she left the room and headed back downstairs. "Free as birds... and with my family. Aye, that'll be good." I muttered to myself before I laid back down, snuggled in the warmth of my comfy bed and closed my eyes again.


	3. Chapter 3

_**April 10**__**th**__**, 1912 – approx. 5:30am **_

"Evie, come on, get up. Evie... it's time to wake up, lass. Aoife, come _on_!"

I could hear Saoirse's voice, and I could feel her hands on my shoulders, shakin' me back to the land of the living, but my body simply did not choose to respond. It seemed as if I had only just closed my eyes and laid down my head, but then again, that's how it had felt every mornin' since the day I learned I was goin' on Titanic.

"Evie!"

I groaned in response and rolled over, covering my head with my pillow. Aunt Margaret had Niamh and I jumping through hoops like show dogs the past few days, preparing us for our voyage on Titanic. We'd been given a lesson in manners, since we had none, or at least that's what Auntie Marge insisted when she brought in her friend Monsieur von Claude, a white haired Frenchman to show Niamh and me the ropes of being first-class maids. He taught us how to speak to our 'mistress' – I'll be damned if I didn't roll my eyes to the back of my very skull when he had spoken that word, I tell ya! He even showed us the correct way to walk!

Consequently, you haven't seen nothin' if you haven't seen a sixty-somethin' man in a three piece suit flouncing about in a parlour, preaching in a heavily accented voice. "First of all, you do not stalk around like undisciplined cave-dwellers. You may be maids, but you are dames, _ladies_. You float… glide." He proceeded to show us by example exactly how a lady should walk.

"Flotteur, dear girls, float! Float as if you walk on air!"

This of course had sent us into fits of giggles. But, I digress.

"EVIE! If you don't get up right now, yer Aunt is gonna have both our heads on a platter!"

I groaned as Saoirse ripped the pillow off my head, and I buried my face in the mattress. "Ah d'n whana guh." The English translation of that would be: "I don't wanna go!" and somehow Saoirse managed to make it out.

"You don't want to go on the Titanic?!"

I stopped protesting and popped my eyes open. It was still dark, but the lamp had been lit, sending a golden glow around the oblong room. I groaned again but managed to hoist myself up into a sitting position.

"There." Saoirse said, looking pleased with herself. She then gave me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, rousing myself for what was going to be one of the most exciting days of my life. But somehow, sitting there in silence with Saoirse, it didn't seem like such a wonderful day.

I truly had no idea what to say to her. Granted, the ship left at noon and it couldn't have been more than six a.m at the time, but I knew I'd have to bid her farewell eventually, and I couldn't live with leaving until I told her exactly how sorry I was that I'd taken her place as a passenger on the ship.

"Well, I best go help Niamh prepare breakfast..." She turned and started towards the door, but I stopped her just as she reached it.

"Saoirse?" I said, my tired voice cracking from disuse. She stopped, and with a deep breath she turned around, trying to look happy.

"It's alright, Evie. We don't have to do this. I mean..." she shook her head. "I'm glad yer goin'. Well, not glad that yer leavin', but... what am I trying to say?" She gave a half-hearted chuckle as I stood up. "I know that it's fer the best, you goin' to be with yer family. I'm happy fer ya."

"I appreciate ya sayin' that..."

"I ain't just sayin' it, Aoife. I mean it. No hard feelin's about my stayin' n' yer goin', alright?"

"O'course." I replied simply and began gnawing on the inside of my lip.

Silence fell in around us again. Finally, after a long moment I spoke again. "I'm not comin' back, Saoirse."

She cracked half a smile and said, "I know. I didn't think ye were gonna."

Nodding again, I continued slowly. "I dunno what's wrong with me. I've wanted to go to America for so long now... And it isn't that I don't wanna go, I do, more than anything. I just... this is the only life I've known since I was a child. And in five days it's gone from the same old routine, to... to knowin' that in another five days I'll be getting off Titanic in a new country, headed for an entirely new life."

Unfortunately what I was having a hard time expressing to her was that it wasn't only that I was scared of a new life. My guilt had been eating away at me for the past few days, makin' me absolutely sick to my stomach as Niamh and I were being pushed through all the aforementioned hoops to prepare us for this journey and Saoirse was left out.

She stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder as if she knew exactly how I was feelin'.

"But that's a good thing, yeah? Havin' a new life. This one 'round here ain't nothin' to hold on to."

I looked down at the floorboards. "I reckon so."

Saoirse sight. "O'course it's gonna be hard, Evie girl. That's part of any adventure, right? But think of it! Soon yer gonna be outta this house fer good, livin' with yer Mum and brothers. Yer gonna be livin' the dream."

When I looked up at her, her smile was genuinely warm. "An' don't worry none about me. I'll be fine, and who knows? Maybe someday I'll be makin' my own journey over there. It just ain't my time right now." She let her hand drop from my shoulder, but she kept her smile.

I nodded and embraced her in a hug. When I released her, she grinned and said, "I'll be goin' now... 'fore Niamh burns down the kitchen. She's a sweet girl, but she ain't got the slightest idea how to run a stove."

I laughed as she turned to leave, but I caught her yet again as she was halfway down the stairs.

"Saoirse?"

"Hmm?"

"... I am sorry." My voice sounded childlike and foreign to my own ears, like a little girl lookin' for forgiveness from a parent.

Saoirse smiled and shook her head. "Don't you even think on it, Evie. Now go get dressed... the Ship o' Dreams awaits you."

I smiled as I closed the door softly behind her. It felt as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and now the only emotion I could feel was excitement, coursing through my veins like a freight train across a track. There were about a hundred thousand butterflies flyin' around in my stomach as I went over to my small wardrobe in the corner of the room and pulled out my new uniform: a plain cotton black dress, with a frilly apron and necktie. I chuckled to myself as I held it against my body.

Despite my funny lookin' get-up, I felt now more than ever that the Ship of Dreams was awaiting me, awaiting to take me away from scrapin' my existence in my Auntie's house and send me right back safe into me Ma's arms.

"Aoife, for goodness sake, will you hurry up, child?!" My Aunt Margaret called as the driver opened the Cadillac door for her. Niamh and I, as we carried out the luggage, grinned at each other. Neither of us had ever ridden in an automobile before, much less a self-starting one.

"I'm comin', Auntie... er... Miz Addisson."

I exchanged a look with Saoirse as she came out of the front door and onto the porch, carrying two more suitcases in her hands. Her eyes widened when she saw the shiny black auto sitting there on the street in front of the house.

"Sign o' the times," she muttered, shaking her head as Fiona climbed up into the seat next to her mother.

"Let me help you, miss." The driver whom Aunt Margaret, or as I'd been instructed to call her in public, Mrs. Addisson, had hired was a kindly old man by the name of Mr. O'Branagan. He quickly took the suitcases from Niamh's arms, just in the nick of time. Niamh was a petite girl, skinny as a rail and several inches shorter than me – though to be honest, finding a girl shorter'n me isn't too hard – and she couldn't have held those bags upright much longer.

She smiled and thanked him as he took them to the luggage car, one of the two would trail behind the Cadillac as we drove to the loading dock.

The three of us girls, plus the driver, headed back inside to collect the remaining luggage. Niamh and I were dressed in our maid outfits, which amused Saoirse to no end, and we kept gettin' the ruffles of our aprons caught on things; the kitchen counters earlier that morning, or the edges of the suitcases we loaded into the automobile.

"You two look right proper," she sniggered. "Monsieur von Claude would be proud."

Niamh giggled and watched as the driver stumbled out the door, carrying a whole trunk by himself.

"Do ya need some help, Mr. O'Branagan?"

"No, no, miss, I've got it!" He called over his shoulder as he hastily descended the stairs of the porch.

Niamh, Saoirse, and I smiled at each other, before looking around the room. There was but one more trunk to be loaded, and then we were off to the shipyard. That fact did not go unnoticed by either of my companions.

Niamh looked on the verge of tears as she quickly embraced our friend, colliding with her with such force that she nearly knocked the wind out of poor Saoirse.

"I'll miss ya!" She cried, tears beginning to pour out of her blue eyes. I wondered as I watched the scene before me if she'd told Saoirse that she wasn't making the return journey. Or if she'd even told Aunt Margaret. _Oi, she'll have a cow when she finds that out! _

Saoirse, regaining her balance, placed an arm around her sobbing friend. "There, there, girl. Don't ye cry over me, I'll be fine. After all, we'll see each other again."

Niamh looked at me with tear-filled eyes over Saoirse's shoulder. And there was the answer to my question. She gave Saoirse one final squeeze before excusing herself and heading outside, dragging the last trunk with her onto the porch where Mr. O'Branagan took the opposite end and helped her out to the auto with it.

"She isn't coming back either, is she?"

I looked over to see Saoirse looking not upset, but more like she had accepted what was to happen. I shook my head silently, before hugging her one last time.

"I can tell ya one thing, lass. We won't forget ya. Never."

She gave a short laugh and patted me on the back. "Likewise."

"AOIFE!" I heard Auntie Margaret screech from her seat in the Cadillac. I looked out the open front door to see Niamh climbing in the row of seats behind her, tears still on her face but looking around the auto in wonderment.

"I thought she was supposed to call ya 'Evie' in public," Saoirse said good-naturedly as she released me. We walked out onto the porch together, where she stopped me and took my hands in her own. She looked at me, her brow furrowed. "You stay safe, you hear? Have a good trip, and keep an eye on Niamh."

I smiled, a tear streaking down my own cheek which I quickly wiped away. "I will."

I gave her hands a final squeeze before turning and joining Niamh in the seat behind Aunt Margaret and Cousin Fiona. Mr. O'Branagan smiled and slammed the door behind me. Niamh and I lent over towards the window as he climbed in the driver's seat and started the engine, which roared to life.

We waved to Saoirse, tears flowing steadily as the auto slowly began moving then faster and faster down the street. She lifted her hand also, giving us a final smile.

I watched the place I'd begrudgingly called home fade in the distance as we rode down the city street. I finally lost sight of it, and its last remaining occupant as we turned a corner.

Though the tears had faded, Niamh and I looked at each other lamentingly as the auto loudly made its way towards the docks. It was the last time either of us would see that house, that street, or our friend Saoirse ever again.

_A/N: I'm in the process of moving right now, so this will be the last update for a few weeks. My internet service is being cut off tomorrow, but hopefully I should be settled into my new place in a week or two. As always, thanks for reading! And don't be shy of that review button. ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks a lot to my two awesome betas, **ShadowsLight91** and **Saphiranna**. Again, I own nothing but The Ladies (Aoife, Saoirse, Niamh, Margaret and Fiona), and make no claim to anything related to Titanic.

My recent move has taken a lot out of me and I haven't been writing much, but I will be posting the next chapter as soon as I can punch it out. Also, I've done some revising on the previous chapters, reworking bits of the characters' Irish accents and bits of dialogue. Might be worth a reread!

To my reviewers:

**LOTRluvrofRent** - Yes, the names are Gaelic! And no, I'm not familiar with a song by the name 'Anything But Ordinary', but I am thinking of renaming the story. That is, if I'm able to think of another title. :P

**Simply Laura** - Thanks for the review!

Thanks for reading!

_**Later that day... **_

One thing I can't say about me Auntie is that she was wrong when she said we should get an early start and make it to the docks as soon as possible. I have never seen so many people gathered in one place in me life! It was madness as the Cadillac pulled into the White Star Line shipyard, movin' faster than it probably should've; we were embarrassingly late due to the sheer amount of people in the streets that day. Mr. O'Branagan simply laid on the horn and drove straight through the masses, narrowly missin' the toes of the people on the ground.

There were passengers and their well-wishers gathered as far as the eye could see, even some people whose sole purpose of bein' there was to see the ship up close and watch it take to the sea for the first time.

As we turned one final corner into that ship yard, Titanic finally came into view. The look of reverence on Niamh's face mirrored my own, and even Fiona was gapin' open-mouthed at the sight of it.

It looked magnificent, risin' majestically out of the cool waters with its smoke stacks soarin' high above our heads. I tell ye, it was like hearin' angels singin' as I looked up at Titanic, and they were singin' of beauty and luxury, and most of all, _freedom_! My breath caught in my throat as the realization crept over me. _I_ was gonna to be boardin' that ship._ I_ was gonna to be one of the first passengers on the luxurious Titanic. Fer once in my life,_ I_ was gonna be one of the lucky ones!

It took me a moment to realize as I stared up from out the window that I was bein' poked gently in the arm. I looked over to see Niamh, her eyes the size of saucers. She looked from me, to the ship, and back to me again.

"We're boardin' the Titanic," she said in a dreamy voice, as if this was the first time it had really dawned on her.

I nodded, a smile creepin' to my lips as I whispered "We are. "

"Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

Niamh and I shot a look to the seat in front of us, where Fiona sat lookin' just as astonished as we did. When we realized that she had been talkin' to us, we exchanged a grin. It was a rare thing, Fiona smilin', and an even rarer thing that she was smilin' while talkin' to either of us!

Mr. O'Branagan quickly hopped out of the driver's seat, headin' first for Aunt Margaret's side of the car, takin' her hand and escortin' her out, then makin' his way over to Fiona to do the same for her. The drivers of the automobiles behind us had also exited their vehicles and were now instructin' the nearest officers on where the luggage should be delivered.

I quickly swung the door open and stepped out amidst the madness which surrounded us. Niamh quickly followed me and stood gawkin' at the ship. I smiled and rounded the automobile, headin' for the luggage car to pick up any suitcases I could carry. When I realized Niamh wasn't behind me, I looked back. There she was, still standin' dumbfounded.

I laughed and called loudly over the crowd, "Niamh! Com'on, help me with the luggage."

I spun back around, this time inadvertently bumpin' into a passerby, causin' the both of us to trip.

"Whoa, there!" I felt two strong hands grip my shoulders as I steadied myself. "You okay, miss? I didn't see ya..."

"I wasn't watchin' where I was goin', I'm sorry..." We were both speakin' at the same time, and I tried to look apologetic as I stared up at the man I'd bumped into, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face. It was all just too bizarre! I couldn't have ever dreamed I'd be about to board a ship like Titanic, and there I was, gettin' ready to.

The man, I reckoned he was a third class passenger if he was a passenger at all, glanced up at the ship, then back to my smilin' face. He nodded in its direction, a stray curl fallin' out from under his bowler hat as he said with a grin, "She's beautiful, ain't she?"

The smile on my face grew. "Amazin'."

Niamh walked past me a moment later, headed for the luggage car. Suddenly reminded of my duties, I nodded at the grinnin' man, before sayin', "Excuse me."

He mumbled 'no worries' as I walked past him and followed Niamh, seein' only the back of her blond head bobbin' through the crowd.

"Evie! Niamh, come on!" Fiona called from the other side of the car; I could see her through the windows wavin' at us with a white gloved hand to come join her and Aunt Margaret. Niamh and I sped up, reachin' the luggage car and grabbin' four suitcases out of the back before we headed around.

Within three steps, one of the suitcases Niamh was carryin' had burst open. I paused as she practically leapt for the first piece of clothin' that now scattered across the stones, not wantin' her mistresses' fine clothes trodden underfoot by the hordes of people.

I began to set the suitcases I was carryin' down, but Mr. O'Branagan came to her rescue and helped her gather the garments.

"Go on, miss. We'll take care of this then Miss Niamh will be along." He smiled at me, his heavily winkled face full of mirth.

I grinned back, thanked him, and then hurried along to my Aunt. When I approached her however, she and Fiona were speakin' with another woman, whose face I couldn't see over my Aunt's fashionably gargantuan hat.

As I came to a halt behind her, I could hear the woman she was conversin' with sayin', "... They say it is the most decadent liner ever created, and my daughter compares it to the Mauretania!"

I furrowed my brow as I tried to recall where it was that I'd heard that voice before. Sort of high pitched and somewhat squawky... well, that could have been any number of my Aunt's dear society friends. A moment later, when my Aunt turned to face the ship, quite possibly to make some droll remark about how they could've made it even better, I caught a glimpse of bright red hair.

'_Dewitt-Bukater! Ah, what's her first name... not that I'll be able to address her by it, God forbid... Ruth, that's it...'_

I was caught up in my reverie so much that I barely paid any attention to my Aunt's conversation with Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater until o'course I heard the red-headed woman say, "Margaret, where is that niece of yours? We were sure she would be accompanying you. She does have family in America, isn't that what you said?"

I gave no immediate reaction. In fact, I was sure I hadn't heard her correctly - she had to have been talkin' to some other Margaret about some other niece. Surely Aunt Margaret wouldn't have told any of her friends about the niece she took in, the one who works like a maid and sleeps in the attic. Nah, there had to be some explanation.

I looked up at my Aunt and noticed that her shoulders had slouched considerably. I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"Oh, ehm..." my Aunt started to reply, a hand comin' up to straighten her hat and tuck a few curls under its brim. Was she... no, she couldn't be stallin'!

Before she could say anythin', I heard Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater say in a low tone of voice, "You know, I was telling the Countess just yesterday that it seems you've had a ghost living with you! We never see the girl out anywhere, though with such a long illness I suppose there's reason for it. But, we had thought she would be accompanying you nonetheless..."

My stomach turned over at the woman's words. I turned around to see Niamh comin' through the bustlin' crowd toward us, intact suitcases in hand, still grinnin' from ear to ear. When she saw the somewhat sour look on my face, her smile faded.

"What's wrong, Ev..." she began to ask as she came up next to me.

"Shhh!" I whispered. I tilted my head towards my Aunt and my very pale-lookin' cousin.

"My niece, of course..." Aunt Margaret mused out loud, and Niamh gave me a questionin' look. I shrugged and listened as my Aunt continued, laughin' lightly, almost nervously while she said "I had no idea you'd recall me talking about her..."

"Of course! We really had no idea you had family living with you and Fiona. When you mentioned that you couldn't attend Madame Rousseau's banquet last year because your niece was ill, imagine our surprise! But then last month, wasn't it? At the dreadful woman, oh, what was her name? Something Byron? At her _attempt_ at a soiree, when you were discussing perhaps letting your niece - it's Aoife, isn't it? - get to know the banker's son? We all took it to mean that she was well and simply assumed that she would be aboard."

During Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater's speech, however far-fetched it seemed to me at the time, I began puttin' pieces of the puzzle together. All those little bits that didn't fit when she was askin' me to come aboard... Callin' me Evie, instead of Aoife for one. Her mates knew her niece's name. And my not callin' her Aunt Margaret but Mrs. Addisson in public…

But still, that left a lot of new questions unanswered. I'd never been ill, well, not seriously enough for Aunt Margaret to miss one of her get-togethers. And ever'one knew Auntie Marge hated that Rousseau woman. And what of this banker's son? I'd never heard a word of it. Mister Evans, the local banker had a right handsome son, no two ways about it, but Aunt Margaret wouldn't think a' settin' me up with him. I spent my days scrubbin' floors on my hands and knees, or runnin' errands, or...

At that moment, my confusion disappeared as everythin' finally fell into place. Aunt Margaret hadn't told her friends about _me_. She's told them about some fancy niece she had livin' with her, some sickly society type she was nursin' back to health. There was no way Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater nor any of Aunt Margaret's other friends would've given a rat's arse if a maid had gotten sick, and it would be the scandal of the century if one were to be set up with a banker's son. No... Aunt Marge had told them she had to nurse her niece back to health, so she wouldn't have to go to Mrs. Rousseau's party or whatever it was.

From the look Niamh gave me, she had drawn the same conclusion. An expression of disgust spread over her face, and she shook her head at me.

I saw Aunt Margaret out of the corner of my eye, shiftin' nervously, and Fiona next to her lookin' about as pale as a china doll.

Suddenly, under the questionin' gaze of Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater, my Aunt began to speak. And when I say speak, I mean she began to _lie through her teeth_.

"She _is _accompanying me."

I could see Fiona's eyes widen, and judgin' by the silence from Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater, it wasn't a good enough explanation. My Aunt continued on. "She's already boarded, you see. She was feeling a bit tired, with all the commotion happening today you can understand why..."

Her voice seemed to fade, as I began concentratin' inordinately hard on the stones beneath my feet. T'was a lot to take on, ye can understand, but now it was even more to think about! How did she think she was goin' to pull this one off? What, was she gonna go the whole voyage tellin' people 'Oh, she's back in her cabin', or 'Oh, she's out on deck', or 'Oh, she's in the library.' People were gonna get wise when no one saw the mysterious niece the entire trip.

I shook my head. _'Her mouth's gotten the better of her again, the ruddy woman! Why on earth would she say that? And why would she do that?! Fer Christ's sake, tellin' people she's got some sickly niece livin' with her, to get outta havin' to consort with people she don't like! She ain't right; she just ain't right in the head...'_

I was shaken out of my reverie by the deafenin' sound of the ship's horn blowin', indicatin' last call for any passengers hopin' to board. I looked up to see that Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater, a woman who I assumed to be her daughter, judgin' by their matchin' hair colours, and a young, handsome man dressed in a fine suit were headed up the gangplank already. As I watched them go, struttin' along like they owned the place, I felt someone grab my arm and sharply pull me back.

When I regained my footin', I came face to face with two very ill-lookin' women. And they said I was the sick one!

"What on earth did you do that for, mother?!" Fiona hissed, her eyes borin' into her mother.

"How was I to know she would remember such a casual remark!"

"Which one was casual, Aunt Margaret? The one where ye used a sick niece as an excuse to get out of seein' Mrs. Rousseau, or the one where ye tried to set up said niece with Mr. Evan's son?" I cocked an eyebrow at her, ignorin' all sense of social decorum I might have gained durin' my lessons with Monsieur von Claude.

"Don't you speak to me that way!" Aunt Margaret reprimanded me, but I just shook my head.

"Excuse me.." Niamh began, but I paid no mind to her.

"Why, on God's green earth did ye tell yer friends that ye had a niece livin' with ye in the first place? Couldn't ye have found somethin' better to lie about?"

"Why I never!" She exclaimed, leanin' towards me. I found myself leanin' in also, if not to block out any pryin' ears from the conversation but to get my point across. "You ungrateful..."

"Ungrateful!" I exclaimed, droppin' the suitcases from me hands, and they landed on the cold ground with a thud as I continued. "This comin' from a woman who, instead of acceptin' an invitation to a perfectly fine dinner with a perfectly normal woman, made up some grand lie about a sick niece so she could sit home and sulk!"

"P-Pardon me?" Niamh tried to break into the conversation, but to no avail.

"That's enough!" Fiona jumped into the conversation, puttin' her hands on her hips. I was far from finished.

"And what's this about Mr. Evan's son? Why'd ye go and do that? Ye've only dug yerself in deeper, woman!"

"I needed to grease the wheels with the banker so he would give us an extension on our loan!"

A stunned silence fell in around us, at least around our little circle. Fiona and I couldn't hide our confusion, and Aunt Margaret looked like she was about to faint.

Another short moment passed and before Fiona could open her mouth to question her mother, Niamh's patience burst at the seams and she squeaked out, "The ship is goin' to leave!"

The lot of us looked up at Titanic as the last few passengers were boardin'. Aunt Margaret grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me up to her side before she began stridin' towards the gangplank, Fiona and Niamh gatherin' my discarded suitcases and followin' close behind.

Had I been more inclined to notice at the time, I'm sure we were quite the sight to see. Someone obviously high-class, stridin' as ladylike as possible at a very quick pace towards the loadin' bridge, draggin' a woman dressed as a maid alongside her, with another maid and yet another society lady carryin' the bags behind them! Unfortunately, the comedic element was entirely lost on me as I was pulled along with Aunt Margaret's nails diggin' into my skin.

She began speakin' quietly but with anger clearly seethin' out of her. "You will take the luggage from Fiona when we board, you and Niamh will follow her to Suites B 36, 38 and 40. There she will help you dress, and put up your hair. I should be there within half an hour. We will go over things more throughly then."

The two of us stepped up onto the gangplank, and she loosened her grip on my arm. "Am I understood?"

"... Not really. You... You can't _honestly_ mean for me to..."

"I mean for you to follow my directions." She spat, and then released my arm completely before fishin' the tickets out of her handbag to hand to the man at the door, or hatch, or whatever it was. I turned back, and took the suitcases from a rather sour-lookin' Fiona before she and Aunt Marge stepped into the ship, beckonin' for Niamh and me to follow.

I looked around, as I walked in the entrance to C deck, surrounded by second and third class passengers. We'd been late, and hardly had time to get to the first class entrance, but nonetheless, the ship was still quite a thing to see from the inside. Butterflies started swoopin' around in my stomach as we followed Aunt Marge to the elevator, and whispered to myself, "What in the name o' Mary just happened?"

"I dunno," Niamh answered what was supposed to be a rhetorical question, "But somethin' tells me this trip ain't gonna be quite the way we thought it would."


	5. Chapter 5 Author's Note

Hey everyone,

Guh! It has been a terribly long time since I've updated this fic, hasn't it? Judging by the hit counter, "Anything but Ordinary" (which, contrary to popular belief, was not named after the song!) hasn't gone completely unread, and I thank you visitors for your time and patience with me while I work through real life and try to get back into the writing mindset. My mind has been so completely filled by my schooling, I haven't any room for creativity anymore, which, to be blatantly honest -if you'll pardon the language-, ROYALLY SUCKS.

I feel as though with every passing moment I spend sitting in a classroom learning about Anatomy, or Medical Term, or any number of other nursey things all good nurses need to know, that the creativity has just melted out of me. I'm drained, mentally and physically, and know that if I could only find time to sit down and write a chapter of this story I would feel like I was queen of the world ;) , but that just doesn't seem to be in the cards for me right now. Hopefully though, I'll be able write something out sometime in the near future, as I'm afraid my Right Brain (not the correct medical term!) will shrivel and die if I can't do something imaginative soon.

In the mean time, I'd like to say thank you to everyone who's stopped by, favorited, alerted, or commented on this story. With every hit, with every favorite or alert added, and especially with every comment, it just makes me want to write more and more, so thank you all for your encouragement!

Truely,

IntrepidLlama


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